It must have been about a week after Midnight and Merlin arrived that Kelly ran up to me laughing and smiling whilst I was attempting to complete half the side of a new aviary.
‘Have you seen what Merlin can do?’ She questioned.
‘Merlin? No, what do you mean?’ I replied.
‘Oh come on, you have to see this, come on.’ Her childlike enthusiasm was infectious but also somewhat irritating as I really wanted to get on with the aviary. I didn’t make an attempt to move and stapled a bit more wire onto the frame. ‘Come on, you’ll love it.’ She tugged at my sleeve so that there was nothing I could do but do as I was told.
Kelly led me down towards the pigs’ paddock.
‘Right, stay there,’ she told me as she opened the gate and went in. ‘Merlin, Merlin.’ She called, and was immediately answered by the now familiar barking snort the pigs give out in their excitement to see if you had any food for them. A pounding of the turf and the two great creatures careered around the corner of their enclosure and galloped straight up to Kelly, stopping abruptly right at her feet, their eyes quizzical with anticipation.
Kelly stretched out her hands in which she was holding a banana and duly broke it into a number of segments.
‘Right boys,’ she said to them, ‘who wants some banana?’ They snorted their response.
‘Here you go Midnight,’ and she popped a bit of fruit into his gaping jaws, then she looked at Merlin and then at me to make sure that I was paying attention.
‘Ok Merlin, now sit!’ No sooner had she issued the command than the great beast shuffled slightly backwards and lowered his backside to the ground then opened up his mouth for his reward.
Kelly giggled with excitement.
I was gobsmacked.
‘That’s amazing,’ I uttered, ‘how did you discover that?’ I asked her.
‘I don’t know really, I was out here giving them some treats and then I suddenly realised that Merlin kept sitting after I had given Midnight some food. So I experimented and worked out that he would respond to the command.’
‘Do it again,’ I said, as excited as Kelly was.
She patted Midnight on the head and offered him some more banana which he duly gobbled out of her fingers. Then she looked at Merlin.
‘Right Merlin, sit!’
Immediately he responded. Shuffle back. Bottom lower. Mouth open.
I laughed. Kelly laughed and both pigs snorted.
It is not hard to fall in love with pigs. We fell in love with Midnight and Merlin very very quickly. We have had several more pigs join us since they arrived, some have been more skittish and nervous than Midnight and Merlin, and some have taken longer to get to know. But without exception we have fallen in love with each and every one of them. Pigs are intelligent, sentient creatures that soon understand who they can trust and they have the most extraordinary eyes that peer directly into your soul.
Midnight and Merlin are however exceptional. I think that they were probably very lucky as they were clearly surrounded by love from a young age. It may have been a naïve and unwise move to adopt two piglets and expect them to live happily in a flat, it may too have been unwise not to verify their actual breed. But nevertheless, whoever took them first clearly showered them with love and I daresay that it was a wrench to give them up to a sanctuary. Midnight and Merlin have never showed any suspicion towards us or lack of trust. That only comes from having had a safe and secure environment throughout their lives.
Feeling the trust of an animal is a wonderful privilege, but in saying that I would never advocate trusting any animal, no matter how close your bond or relationship. All animals are animals and at the end of the day, if the moment comes they will respond to any danger or threat instinctively without any thought to any perceived connection we have with them. The pony will kick out, as will a cow, a ram will attempt to hammer you with his knuckle head, the dog will bite, the cat will scratch and the ferret will snap his jaws onto your naked flesh and hold on for all time. It’s not a crime, they’re not evil, they’re just being animals and when they behave in this way then more times than not it is in response to something that we have done wrong. So I love all our residents, I cuddle them and hold them and play with them but I don’t trust any of them. I know that if I make a false step that takes away their feeling of safety, then I will be the one rueing my mistake.
I respect and value our residents for the animals that they are and know that at any moment they could quite easily turn against me – even beautiful little Tilly who is sleeping by my side right now. I respect their power and strength, their speed, their reactions, the sharpness of their teeth, the hardness of their hooves. I really, really respect the power in the jaws of the pigs.
The pigs enjoy a selection of treats everyday, fruit, vegetables, vegetarian dog chews, acorns, whatever we have in stock. No matter how dense the treat is, when it is in the jaws of one pig or another it is soon reduced to an edible rubble. The power in their jaws is extraordinary, impressive and something to be well and truly respected.
It was a warm summer afternoon. I was working as usual on a new enclosure when I suddenly heard Kelly screaming my name. I called out to her to try and get an angle on where she was, then saw her chasing through the goats’ paddock.
‘Pete, Pete, quick, I think Midnight is dying.’ She screamed, her voice filled with panic.
I didn’t stop to think and raced towards her, as I did so I became aware of a horrendous deep, desperate squealing coming from the field enclosure that had become the shelter for Midnight and Merlin. The field shelter had originally been erected for our goats and sheep and erstwhile was occasionally inhabited by chickens, but when we had to rethink the living arrangements for the pigs we requisitioned it for them.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked Kelly fearfully, not stopping but continuing towards the terrible sounds.
‘I don’t know, I think he’s dying, I heard this dreadful noise, went into see and he’s in the corner writhing around. I think he’s fitting.’ Her words were filled with tears and my stomach was churning.
I raced to the enclosure and immediately saw the exact scene that Kelly had described. Midnight was in the far left corner, squealing, spasming, bucking, throwing his head from one side to the other continually. In the other corner Merlin was pacing up and down. I don’t believe that it’s fanciful to believe that he was nervous and concerned for his brother.
I didn’t think or assess the situation to any great degree, I saw a pig in dreadful torment and needed to understand what was going on.
‘Ok boy, only me boy, just me.’ I spoke gently and soothingly, walking slowly towards the great juddering body. The squeals were ear shattering and desperate. The poor animal appeared in total agony, but as I neared I could see exactly what was causing the torment. I cursed myself because I knew in that moment that this was due to my negligence, my lack of meticulousness.
When the goats had been utilising the enclosure we would hang two large hay nets from hooks from the metal frame for them, the same hay nets that you might use for ponies to eat from. The goats loved the nets but did tend to destroy them quite quickly by tugging at them and teasing them from their hooks. We had to rehang the nets regularly and often had to replace them completely if the goats had damaged them too much.
Evidently when I had changed over the enclosure for use from the goats to the pigs I had neglected to clear it of all the hay nets, as at this point Midnight had himself ensnared in one. In his exploration and snuffling around the enclosure he must have caught a tusk on a nylon strand of the net, and from that simple action he had then managed to become fully trapped. At whichever point he discovered his situation he must have then made it worse for with each panic ridden tug and gasp and jolt he reduced his mobility and clearly raised his fear.
‘Shhh boy,’ I cooed, trying to take stock of the whole situation while I moved in closer. I could see that the netting was all round his head, caught on both his tusks, in his mouth and also caught on something on the enclosure itself, hence why he couldn’t get out of the corner.
I patted him on the back and tried to reassure him.
‘It’s ok boy, I’m here now, we’ll sort this out.’
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Kelly appeared with phone in hand behind me. ‘Shall I call the vet?’
‘No,’ I replied sternly, ‘but I need you to get Merlin out of here, I can’t have eyes in the back of my head.’
‘But ..’ she started.
‘Just get Merlin out.’ I barked.
I knew what I wanted to do, knew what had to be done, but had little confidence that I would be able to do it. But I also couldn’t see any alternative. Midnight needed to be free of the net. And by the way he was panicking and creating in that moment, I really felt that time was of the essence.
Behind me Kelly was, in my mind, not acting quickly enough to get Merlin out.
‘You need to get this pig out of here, NOW!’ I yelled to her.
I was a tad tense.
A thousand thoughts and images had entered my mind of what was going to happen from my forthcoming actions. The overriding image I had involved a lot of blood (mine) and the loss of limbs (also mine). I patted Midnight again. He half grunted. He had momentarily stopped squealing with my approach, almost as if now that I was there he knew he had an ally. I took the stanley knife out of my pocket that is always there – it is not always the same stanley knife as I have a habit of losing them, therefore I have several stanley knives of which there is always one of them in my pocket. I pushed up the blade and straddled Midnight to get to the netting that was entwined around some of the enclosure framework. The pig tensed but he didn’t buck and allowed me to climb over him. I sawed at the twine. As I did so Midnight tugged, feeling the unwelcome vibrations in his mouth. Then the nylon snapped and the pig was released from the claustrophia of his corner. He reeled backwards and thundered into Merlin who still hadn’t been taken out.
‘Get this bloody pig out of here!’
‘I’m trying, I’m trying,’ Kelly replied.
‘Listen,’ I said angrily, ‘I cannot deal with two pigs in here. If one goes for me I may have a chance, but if they both go for me I won’t have any chance.’ I wasn’t being overly dramatic, I really felt that in that confined space I was incredibly vulnerable and anything could happen if I was the perceived threat.
I turned back to Midnight who, although relieved of his spatial restriction was desperately trying to tear the net from his mouth by repeatedly hammering his head into the ground.
‘Shhh boy, calm down now.’ I patted him on the back, on the shoulder and then gently on the head. ‘Let me take a look at this.’ I continued to talk to him, make sounds at him, communicate with him that I was with him and there to help. I grabbed a bit of the netting at the side of his mouth, tugging his head towards me. He growled deeply in warning, but I quickly cut through some of the string and pulled it free of his mouth. It wasn’t much, but it was a start, all I had to do now was get the rest.
Midnight eyed me nervously but I swear that in that stare there was a knowing that I was there to help and not to torture. I moved in again with my ungloved hands and grabbed another easily available few strands, I tugged at them forcing the pig’s great head towards me, he opened up his mouth but no sound came out, then I thrust down my blade and sawed and sawed. A whole section of netting was released and I threw it behind me. Now I could really see what challenge lay before me. Midnight had clearly half swallowed some of the net and also had it tightly compacted round his tusks. I had to go in as fast as I could and as confidently as I could and hope that with my hand in his mouth he wouldn’t chomp down on me otherwise my piano playing days would definitely be at an end.
I told him what I was going to do. Not because I believed he understood, but because I needed to somehow calm my nerves. And I apologised to him, because I took full responsibility for being negligent. Then I went for it.
I grabbed as much netting as I could, kept talking and thrust my hand into the pig’s mouth where I could see twine. I sawed and cut and tugged. I worked as quickly as I was able trying to reduce the netting to just lengths of nylon that I would pull out and discard. I unwound from the tusks, pulled from out of the throat and sliced and spliced.
Then it was done. The last strands came out of Midnight’s mouth and I tossed them to the floor. He made a gentle and tired snort, shook his head and proceeded to vacate the enclosure clearly on the hunt for a piece of fruit or two that might be lying undiscovered in the paddock. I patted his rear as he passed me and he snorted again.
I sank to the floor exhausted.
‘Are you ok? Kelly asked.
‘I’m fine, sorry, I was stressed.’ I replied.
‘It’s fine. You were amazing.’ She answered. That was reward enough, she doesn’t deal superlatives very often.
I then reflected on the last few minutes.
‘Do you know, he didn’t go for me once. I mean I had my hand in his mouth, I was tugging at him, but he just let me get on with it. It was like he knew I was trying to help. He could have broken my hand anytime he wanted. But he didn’t. He just let me help.’ I mused openly to Kelly. And I believed it and I believe it to this day. It may be fanciful or romantic, but every animal instinct should have told that pig to attack me, to fend me off, that I was not to be trusted. But Midnight overcame those instincts and made a judgement call. He judged that I was on his side and that he could trust me. And because he trusted me we both came out of the whole situation uninjured and no worse for wear.
You can’t ever trust animals and mustn’t. But when they trust you it is a truly spiritual moment.
We have several pigs with us now at Pen Y Bryn, none of them are anywhere near the size of Midnight and Merlin and none of them either are as personable or as relaxed with us. And it’s not just with us that the boys are gentle and accepting, whenever we have guests or give a private tour of the sanctuary they will come out and investigate the new voices. They’ll snuffle and snort for a treat and will welcome a pat or a stroke. Often visitors will leave saying that their favourite of our residents were the two large pigs. They are wonderful brothers who squabble with each other, play with each other, tease each other, enjoy splashing around in their wallow together and most of all relish in snuggling up together in their duvets or straw.
When they arrived Midnight and Merlin weren’t in the best of shape, their body shape was not that of a properly fed pot-bellied pigs and their skin was cracked from lack of protection from the sun and lacked any meaningful hair.
Now they have a lovely shape, though we must admit that they are even bigger than when they arrived, their skin is crack free and they both have a wonderfully thick covering of black hair, the latter as much as anything to do with the oily back scrubs and massages that they regularly receive from Kelly and Ellie. They terrified me the day I first met them, but today, as Christmas approaches and they have been with us two years, I can honestly say that, though I don’t trust them, I trust them more than pretty much any other animal here ….. and considerably more than many people I know.
